Begin Again
by nlizzette7
Summary: They fall for each other all over again, every day for five years. They're the Basses, and that's all they need. A series of one-shots based on the marriage of Chuck and Blair.
1. Ice

He's exhausted.

His back aches, and his throat is sore from all of the press conferences and interviews this past week.

_Mr. Bass, what do you say about the rumors circulating around your father's death?_

"No comment."

_Is it true that you're only using your marriage to save your reputation?_

"Of course not. Leave my wife out of this."

_Chuck Bass, did you murder your father?_

That one is the hardest. It forces his eyes closed, brings him back to that rooftop one week ago. He fields it as best as he can, moving on to other subjects, dodging the persistent reporters.

But sometimes he wants to scream, "I'm _Chuck Bass. _And I'm the reason why my father is dead."

But he would never.

He could never.

He stumbles into his penthouse, craving the glass of Scotch he's been anticipating all day. He shrugs his suit jacket off, throwing himself on the chaise in the center of the room. He's just about to close his eyes when he hears a voice in his bedroom. And he remembers.

"_No_. I want the samples in lilac. God, can't you people manage anything when I'm not there? Get it done, Rodolfo. I have a list of people who are willing to take your job at any given moment."

Chuck smirks, getting up from his seat to find her.

He still doesn't think it's real, still thinks he's going to wake up from all of this. He'll be seventeen again, guarding her drink while she dances for him at Victrola.

But no. She's really there, all of the time, everyday. This is _their _home now.

And there she is, sprawled out on his bed with a pile of magazines and fabric patches spread out across the duvet. He smiles at the adorable little frown on her face before coming to join her.

"You're home early," Blair whispers when he digs his face into her lap. She strokes his hair back, gently massaging his neck.

"I cancelled my last meeting," he groans, instantly relaxing under her touch.

"How was it today?" she asks. "Any better?"

"They all think I'm a murderer," he huffs. "They all think I'm a monster. And maybe I am."

"_Hey_," Blair says, lifting his face. His sad eyes meet hers, and her heart drops. "We're the Basses now. Anything that you are, I am too. And I am certainly _not _a monster."

Chuck forces a smile and leans into kiss her softly. She brings her hand up to the nape of his neck, tugging the hair there. He groans against her lips, and she sighs in return. They don't have to speak, they never have.

_I missed you._

_I missed you more._

Suddenly, Blair pulls away. Chuck frowns, his lips still searching for hers. He opens his eyes and sees a mischievous smile on her face.

"We're going out," she says, hopping off the bed. She searches the floor for her pumps and pulls them on.

He stretches out on the sheets, kicking his loafers to the floor. "I've already taken off my shoes."

She rolls her eyes at him, freshening her lip gloss. "Very mature, Chuck. Now get up."

Chuck frowns, pulling a frustrated hand through his hair. "Blair, it's been a long day. I really don't have time to – "

"To what? Spend time with your wife? Don't test me, Bass."

"There are other ways we can spend the time," he smirks, gesturing to his bed sheets. Blair isn't amused. She pinches her lips together, crossing her arms over her chest. He knows that look. And although Chuck Bass doesn't surrender to anyone, he knows better than to question his wife. He slowly gets up, watching the smile spread on her lips.

"Our honeymoon is next week, Mr. Bass." She grins, straightening his collar. Chuck swallows as she takes his hands and trails them over the curve of her waist. He continues on without her help, toying with the hem of her dress.

He once had this rule – he'd never sleep with the same girl twice.

But now, now he has Blair. And somehow, he's always ready for her. He never grows tired of her moans in his ear, the reddish flush on her skin, the way her eyes widen when he trails kisses down her neck.

Blair leans up, presses her soft lips to his ear. "One week, and I'm all yours."

He chuckles, pulling her closer. "You're already mine, Mrs. Bass."

And she doesn't argue with that.

:::

"Blair, I look ridiculous."

"I told you to change out of that suit."

"I didn't think we'd be doing _this._"

They're standing by the ice rink in Central Park. Blair happily twirls around in her pink skirt, her skates already laced up. Chuck sits on the bench next to her, face reddening as he pulls hideous white skates over his suit pants.

Blair raises her hand to her face, trying to hide a giggle.

"Don't be such a baby, Chuck." She reaches into her bag, pulling something out of it. "Here, I brought you this."

Chuck smirks as she wraps his old red scarf around his neck.

She leans down, tucking it under his collar. "_This _is the one sport where it's acceptable to wear that stupid scarf." She presses her lips to his cheek, taking his hands to help him up. Immediately, he loses his balance, tripping over his own feet.

He gets flustered, almost angry, as he tries to stay standing. Blair watches on, taking his hand again.

"Chuck, I thought you knew how to ice skate."

"Of course I do," he huffs, hobbling over to the rink. "I'm Chuck Bass. There's nothing I can't do."

Blair follows him easily. As she watches him slip on the ice, her heart sinks. She realizes that nobody ever took Chuck ice skating as a child. He never had a gentle mother who'd pull him out onto the ice with encouraging words. She can't imagine Bart Bass ever doing anything with his son just for fun.

Chuck Bass prides himself on having it all.

But he didn't have a childhood.

So Blair doesn't say a thing as he tries to lead her around the rink like all of the other men out there. She pretends to fall, pouting with faux clumsiness. He lifts his head with pride, playing the hero once he gets the hang of it.

Soon, they're sailing through the rink, and he smiles at her. A _real _smile.

And Blair has never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

:::

Later, they're sitting in a warm bath. Chuck's resting between her legs, head tilted back against her chest. Blair runs her fingers down his chest.

She likes moments like these, when he lets her take care of him. No games, no heartache.

He needs this. And she can give it to him.

"I know what you did today," he finally murmurs, tilting his head up to look at her. Blair tries to maintain her blank expression, looking down at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"_Please _Wald – " He catches himself, remembering her new name. "Blair. I know that your father's been taking you ice skating every year since you were six. You're a pro."

Blair shrugs, looking up at the ceiling.

"Thank you," he whispers to her. He turns his face, pressing his lips into the curve of her arm. "I needed that. I needed you."

Blair smiles, wondering how they got to this point after so many years of twisted mind games.

_Chuck and Blair don't go on dates. Chuck and Blair don't go to the movies._

But they go ice skating.

And that's a start.


	2. Mistletoe

**Author's Note: **I can't thank you guys enough for the amazing reviews I got for this story. You are all so awesome, and I wanted to let you know how much I appreciated hearing from all of you. I hope you guys enjoy it as it continues!

* * *

Blair has never had normal nightmares.

What scares others – ghosts and demons and death – doesn't faze her. She doesn't have the time to be bothered by those things. She's Blair Waldorf.

She's Blair _Bass_.

Instead, her dreams are like film reels. Classy dresses and the front steps of Tiffany's. She'll wake up gasping for breath when she doesn't get to play Audrey or if that _peasant _Nelly Yuki intercedes in her otherwise flawless reenactment of _Gone With the Wind._

But lately there's been something else plaguing her thoughts.

Chuck, drunk on the rooftop of that building during senior year.

Chuck held at gunpoint near France.

And the Bass Industries Jet, spiraling down through the air with the love of her life on it.

Blair stirs in bed, tossing and turning.

"Blair, help me," Chuck yells.

Blair is lost, running through the darkness. And she can never get to him, she can never save him in time.

"Chuck, where are you?" she screams, heart pounding. She can't lose him, she can't –

"Blair," he pleads. "Please, I need you."

:::

"_Chuck_."

Blair sits up in bed, gasping for breath. Her hands dart out to the space beside her, but she can only feel cold empty bed sheets. Her eyes widen in panic when she realizes that the bed is still made beside her.

"Chuck?"

Nothing.

She glances down and breathes a heavy sigh of relief when she sees the familiar glint of her wedding ring in the darkness. She rolls out of bed, wrapping her robe around her for warmth.

Music is playing in the living room of the penthouse, and the air feels different. Warmer and cozier.

Blair steps through the hallway, flinching as her bare feet touch the cold floor.

"Blair?"

Blair spins around to see her husband standing behind her in silk pajamas. She exhales and throws herself into his arms, digging her face into his chest. He doesn't waste a second before slipping his arms around her.

"You're here," she whispers against his neck.

"Of course I'm here," he chuckles. "Where else would I be?"

Blair shakes her head, staying silent.

"Blair," Chuck repeats, tilting her chin up. "Tell me what's wrong."

Blair shakes her head again.

"Another nightmare?" he asks, ever persistent. "Was it Roman Holiday or Casablanca this time?"

Blair sighs, glancing up at him. "Neither. It was Chuck and Blair."

"It was a _good _dream then," he says, smirking suggestively. Blair rolls her eyes, letting a small smile slip.

"I'm serious, Basshole," she teases, slapping at his chest. Her smile drops as she closes her eyes. "In my dream, you were gone."

They're silent for a moment. Blair stares down at the ground, and Chuck studies the genuine worry on her face. Finally, he takes her face in both of his hands, forcing her to look at him.

"Blair, I am _never _going to leave you," he says. "You should know that."

Blair sighs, leaning into his touch. "And what if I lose you? Even Chuck Bass can't beat death."

"I suppose not," he muses, raising his eyebrows. "But our love can."

"Do you really think so?"

"I've known since that night at Victrola." Chuck grins, seeing flashes of the 17-year-old Blair smiling at him over her naked shoulder. "There are no two people who are more perfect for each other than we are."

Blair nods, biting her lip. "Maybe Brad and Angelina."

Chuck smirks, rolling his eyes. "I don't think they have a two-page list of social takedowns."

"Two pages?" Blair asks, grinning. "Is that all?"

:::

"I have a surprise for you," Chuck says. He reaches out and tugs off the silky belt from her robe. Blair takes the hint, shrugging it off her shoulders. But he stops her before it falls to the floor.

"Not _that _kind of surprise," he smirks, taking a moment to appraise his insatiable wife. He wraps the robe around her shoulders.

Blair pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. "Then what is it?"

Chuck laughs as he lifts the belt to her eyes, creating a makeshift blindfold. He presses the crinkles between her brows with his thumb.

"Come on," he whispers in her ear. He takes Blair's hand and leads her through the hall.

"What's that smell?" she asks, almost tripping over her feet. "Is that…fresh cookies? In Chuck Bass' penthouse? I _must _be imagining it."

"Not quite," he says, pulling off the blindfold. "Open your eyes, Blair."

Blair gasps, taking in the sight before her.

The Bass Penthouse has been transformed into a holiday _wonderland_.

Lights dangle from every wall of the living room. The fireplace mantle holds two gold stockings – one engraved _C _and the other _B_. Holly is tucked into every crevice of the room, along with a small mistletoe that dangles above them.

In the center of the room stands the tallest Christmas tree Blair has ever seen. It's decorated perfectly, with glass ornaments and streams of silver tinsel lined up in perfect rows. Blair marvels at it, unable to look away.

"What is all of this?" she asks, glancing at a table covered with sugar cookies and gingerbread houses.

Chuck smiles, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Well, I know how upset you were when I booked our honeymoon during the week of Christmas."

"I wasn't – "

"I know you, Blair. You live for the holidays."

"That _is _true," Blair admits.

"So I thought we could celebrate a little bit early this year," he says, kissing her forehead. "I called in a few favors."

"You've outdone yourself, Bass," Blair says, clasping her hands together, "I don't even know where to start."

Chuck grins, glancing up at the mistletoe above them. "I do."

Blair smiles, tiptoeing to kiss him. She feels him smile against her lips, and warmth spreads through her body like a slow flame. She closes her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I love you," he whispers, hand sliding down her back.

"I love you, too," she replies.

He grins, sliding his hands down even further to grip her thighs. Blair gasps as he lifts her up and presses her against the wall behind her.

"I thought mistletoes were just for kissing," she breathes as he trails kisses down her neck.

He stops at the skin just below her ear, one hand tugging at the hem of her robe.

"We could never be that boring."

:::

"You know, I was going to wait until next week to give you your present," Blair whispers, curling up against Chuck's chest. The fireplace is warm in front of them as they curl up on the living room rug.

"Blair, you didn't have to get me anything," Chuck says, stroking her hair. "You married me. I think I'm satisfied for the next five years."

"Don't be silly, Bass," Blair says. She shifts away from him, standing to look for something in her purse. Chuck groans in protest, trying to pull her back.

Blair grins, returning with a wrapped present. She hands it to Chuck. He swallows, trailing is fingers over the corners of the gift.

"Open it," she insists.

He glances down again, tearing at the wrapping paper like a little boy would. He pulls the black frame away from the paper and gasps.

"It's our first family portrait," Blair murmurs. "For the mantle."

Chuck nods, staring down at the photo of him and Blair on their wedding day. His eyes glisten in the firelight.

"Do you like it?" she asks, placing a hand on his arm. "I didn't know what else you'd want. You have everything here, except for a family photo."

Chuck nods, taking her hand and kissing her open palm. He smiles, pressing her fingers against his cheek. "I love it, Blair. I love _you_."

She smiles, leaning into kiss him.

"Wait," Chuck says. This time, he stands up. He glances around the room before pulling a small black box from behind his bookshelf. Blair cocks an eyebrow at his sneakiness.

He hands her the box, sitting in front of her. She can barely contain her excitement as she lifts its lid and –

"Oh my God." Blair grins, lifting the charm bracelet from the black satin. She holds it in front of her face, tracing the lines of the charms. The first is a tiny silver limo. It's followed by a glistening little peony.

She feels tears in her eyes, and she can't stop them.

And she doesn't have to.

Blair turns it over, smiling at the Eiffel Tower and Empire State Building. And then the miniature poker chip. A small infinity sign hangs off the end, near the clasp.

"Forever," Chuck explains, hooking the bracelet around her wrist.

:::

That night, Blair rests her head against Chuck's chest, sleepily admiring her new charm bracelet. Chuck holds her to him, glancing up at the portrait on his –

On _their _mantle.

"We've come far, haven't we?" she whispers.

"Yeah," Chuck says, taking her hand in his. "We have."


	3. Envy

"Hello? Are you there?" Blair yells into her phone, plugging one of her ears with a finger. "Chuck?"

"Blair, I'll call you back," Chuck replies, his voice sounding farther away than ever. His voice crackles through the receiver, and Blair frowns. "The reception is terrible down here."

"But – "

"I love you, Blair."

_Click_.

"Ugh," Blair groans, tossing her phone into her purse. Her face falls into her hands as she lets out a long, frustrated sigh.

"B, what's wrong?" Serena asks, taking a bite of her salad across the table. They're having a long overdue lunch after the hectic stream of interviews and paparazzi during the past two weeks.

"It's Chuck." Blair pouts, crossing her arms across her chest.

Serena raises an eyebrow. "Already?"

"Chuck is in the Bahamas, and I'm here," Blair says, freshening her lip gloss. "That arrangement isn't quite working out for me."

"I thought you two were meeting there in a few days."

Blair sighs, running her fingers through her hair. "I just think it's _quite _the coincidence that Chuck had a meeting there right before our honeymoon. I should be carried across a rose-covered threshold, not waiting at a sticky airport."

Serena groans, scowling at her best friend. "He offered to take you with him."

"I was _trying _to be a good wife by staying out of his business, S," Blair says, putting on her best doe-eyes. "But that was before I remembered that it's bikini season all year round there."

Blair winces, imagining long-legged blonde bimbos parading around her husband in skimpy bikinis. She chokes on the cucumber water in her mouth.

"I thought you two were long past the trust issues," Serena says.

Blair closes her eyes, stirring her straw. "We are. The past just…has a way of repeating itself around us."

Serena looks up, noticing the pain in Blair's eyes. "B, this isn't junior year. This isn't going to be Tuscany again."

Blair's eyes widen before she flushes. "I wasn't saying – "

Serena reaches across the table to pat Blair's hand. "Chuck loves you with all of his heart, B. He's not going to risk losing you with a lie like this."

Blair relaxes in her seat, worrying her lip with her teeth. "I guess you're right."

"I _know _I'm right," Serena corrects, nudging her arm. Blair finally cracks a smile before returning her attention to the plate in front of her.

"So how are things with Dan?" Blair asks. "Or is he officially going by GG now?"

Serena rolls her eyes, sinking back into her seat. "B – "

"I can only imagine the things he whispers to you in bed," Blair smirks. "_You know you love me, Serena. _XOXO."

"Cut it out." Serena tosses a rolled-up straw wrapper at Blair, which she easily dodges. "You know that Dan officially took the site down weeks ago."

Blair shakes her head, shooting Serena a knowing look. "S, you and I both know that you can't keep a bitch down. Even if _she _is actually a _he_."

:::

Blair can't sleep. She's used to Chuck's arms around her after they come down from their nightly high, his nose nuzzling the nape of her neck, his lips brushing against her shoulder.

"This is torture," Blair sighs, throwing a pillow over her face. She flips onto her stomach, turning on the television in front of her. She might as well indulge in some classic Audrey.

Just as she reaches _Roman Holiday _on her instant queue, Blair hears a chime coming from her laptop on the floor. She stares at it curiously, watching the screen light up when it rings again.

Chuck's face appears on the screen, and Blair runs for it, immediately accepting his Skype call. She crouches on the floor, rushing to pat down her hair.

"Hello beautiful." Blair's heart melts as Chuck smirks at her. He's lying on the bed in his hotel room, holding his phone just over his face.

"Hi handsome," she replies. Chuck sits up a bit, looking at the screen more closely.

"Are you…on the floor?"

Blair coughs, subtly lifting her computer to the duvet and following behind it. "Of course not."

Chuck grins, raking his fingers through his hair. "Right. Are you fairing well without me?"

Blair scoffs. "I'm doing just fine, Bass," she lies, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Chuck frowns. "I'm not. I miss you every second, Blair. Especially right now. I wish you'd taken my offer the first time around."

Blair sighs, biting her lip. "I do too."

There's a glimmer in Chuck's eyes as he turns on his side, shooting her a mischievous smile. "What exactly would we be doing if you _were _here?"

Blair raises her eyebrows, heat rushing below her stomach. She leans over, shrugging off the strap of her tank top. "Let me show you."

:::

"Welcome to The Bahamas, Mrs. Bass."

Blair smiles and pulls off her sunglasses. The lobby of The Reef Atlantis is breezy as she makes her way through it with a bellboy on her tail.

"Thank you," she sighs, letting her hair fall around her shoulders.

"Would you like me to show you to your suite?"

Blair shakes her head. "I'd actually like to see my husband. I'm here a day earlier than expected, and I wanted to surprise him."

The bellboy smiles politely, pointing her in the direction of the Preferred Guest Lounge. She takes a moment to steady herself before strolling outside. Immediately, she's surrounded by rich socialites bearing brown tans and silver VIP pins. She scans the lounge, feeling comforted by the two catcalls she gets from two frat boys by the infinity pool. She rolls her eyes before finally finding her husband.

Blair gasps, nearly dropping her purse.

A half-naked faux redhead with a stark white bikini bends over the bar, shooting Chuck a coy smile. She whispers something into his ear, and Chuck smirks back at her. She giggles before walking back into the hotel lobby.

And then all hell breaks loose.

"I _knew _you would do this to me," Blair yells, much to the chagrin of the guests dozing off on the white beach chairs. Her face is blazing red, her voice trembling in anger.

"Blair, lower your voice," Chuck murmurs, reaching for her arm. "I wasn't expecting you to – "

"To what?" Blair spits, hands curling into fists. "Catch you courting that white trash on our _honeymoon_? I think that's a new low, Bass."

"Blair, you're getting it all wrong," Chuck pleads.

"I'm not blind. I saw you with her."

"She's my associate's _wife_," Chuck explains.

Blair's eyes widen in horror. "You're disgusting."

"That's not what I meant, Blair," Chuck says, shaking his head. "This is ridiculous, and you're hysterical. I refuse to talk to you when you're like this."

Blair lets out a sharp laugh, backing away with her arms raised. "Congratulations, Chuck. I'm granting you your wish. Because this honeymoon is _over_."

:::

"Another," Blair drawls, head dangerously close to hitting the bar counter in front of her. She hasn't even considered going up to the room yet. Why should she? Chuck is probably entertaining another one of his skanks as she drinks.

"Are you sure, Mrs. Bass? That's your fourth of the night."

"I can count," Blair hisses. "And it's _Ms. _Waldorf."

"But you're tab says – "

"If you value your pathetic little tip collection at all," Blair says, leaning forward, "you'll pour me my drink. _Silently_."

The bartenders rolls his eyes, turning to do as she says.

"Rough night?"

Blair looks up to see the redhead from this morning sitting beside her. Blair frowns at her skintight black dress and cheetah print pumps, wondering if she's hallucinating. She parts her lips to speak, but the woman beats her to it.

"I know the feeling," the woman continues. "I've been lusting after this _gorgeous _man for two days. He's my husband's new client. You know how it is."

Blair shoots her an incredulous look. "Was he blinded by that two dollar hair dye?"

The insult flies right past her as she flags down the bartender. "I've been practically throwing myself at him. But he'll barely talk to me past _hello_. All he can talk about is his _stunning _new wife. I'd like to see the lucky bitch."

Blair swallows, instantly sobering up. "Really?"

The woman nods. "Such a pity, really. I heard he was quite the lady's man when he was younger. I guess he lost his edge."

Blair pushes away her new drink, ordering a water instead. "Maybe he's outgrown whores like you," she shrugs. "Just a thought."

"_Excuse _me? Who do you think you are?"

Blair smiles, waving her ring-clad hand in the air. "Think twice before putting your slutty little hands on my husband _ever _again."

The woman gasps as Blair lifts her drink in the air and pours it down the woman's dress.

"I'm Blair _Bass_."

:::

Chuck is already in bed when Blair steps in, holding her heels in her hand. She drops them on the floor, tiptoeing across the carpet.

He doesn't turn to her when he speaks. "I'm glad you finally decided to join me."

Blair sighs, falling into bed beside him. She drapes a light arm around him, relieved when he doesn't pull away. "I'm sorry. I was wrong. I was _so _wrong."

Chuck sighs, turning over. "Our marriage isn't going to work if you don't trust me, Blair."

"I know," she murmurs, kissing the corner of his lips.

"You smell like Vodka," Chuck says, shaking his head. "What the hell is wrong with you, Blair? This is supposed to be our honeymoon."

Blair winces, looking away. "I was so worried about you returning to your old ways and ruining our relationship. But _I'm _the one who ruined everything."

Chuck offers her a small smile, tilting her chin up with his finger. "You didn't ruin anything Blair. I love you. I always have, and I always will."

Blair glances up at him. "Promise?"

Chuck smirks, pulling her to his chest. "As long as you quit the screaming matches in public. I'm not one of your minions." Blair giggles against the silk of his pajamas.

"Didn't it remind you of our games three years ago?" Blair murmurs. "With those models?"

Chuck grins, sliding a hand down to the zipper of her dress. "I much prefer the activity that came after." Blair flushes as Chuck slips the material off of her, sliding a hand down her bare skin. "What do you say we make this honeymoon official, Mrs. Bass?"


	4. Steam

**Author's Note: **Hi guys. As always, thank you for the wonderful reviews. You guys are what motivates me to write. This chapter is short and sweet, and it might just be the last for this fic. I hope you enjoy it. And I also wanted to let you know that you can follow my Tumblr, .com for some lovely Chair goodies, sneak peeks of my other fics, and exclusive content. You can also request stories there and ask me questions. The link to it is also located on my profile. xoxo

* * *

"Who's that girl?"

Chuck purses his lips, setting his Pina Colada down on the small beach table beside him. A group of over-tanned European men are standing in front of him. _And blocking his sun, he might add._ He frowns down at their multi-colored neon Speedos in disdain, longing for the Bass summer house at The Hamptons, where the beaches are private.

Chuck follows their gaze down the beach and smirks. A brunette with long brown hair is making her way up the sand, hips swaying in under a transparent sarong. His eyes rake over her thin waist, already golden from the sun, to the small top, tight against her breasts. She pulls her sunglasses up to rest atop her head, eyes scanning the beach.

"Looks like she's taken, gentlemen" Chuck chimes in, stretching out over his beach chair. He nods to the ring glittering on her finger as she grows closer.

The men laugh, elbowing each other. "Whoever the lucky bloke is certainly can't handle that as well as I can."

Chuck rolls his eyes, biting his tongue. One of the men saunters over to the brunette with his lips turned up. The brunette stops, crossing her arms over her chest. The man says something to her, eyes all over her body. She raises an eyebrow, probably preparing to hash out a verbal beat down on the poor guy, until she sees Chuck sprawled out on the chair a few feet away. He nods at her, and she takes the hint, turning to smile at the man.

Chuck waits until the man reaches out to play with her hair to get up.

"What the hell is going on here?" Chuck spits. He steps between the two of them, eyes blazing. Blair glances down, biting her lip.

"Look, man," the guy says, "I saw her first. Fuck off, yeah?"

Chuck scoffs, lifting Blair's left hand. "No, _man_. I think I saw her first."

The guy's eyes widen. "You're her – "

"Chuck Bass. Her husband."

Blair shrugs, picking at her nails. "He just kept hitting on me. I _told _him I was married."

"You didn't – "

"I'll give you five seconds to step away from my wife," Chuck interrupts with a glare that could kill. The man backs away, hands raised up in surrender.

"Whatever, dude," he says. "I'm not into the drama."

Chuck suppresses a smirk. _And that's why you don't have a chance with Blair._

He turns to her, careful to keep his eyes on her face. One glance down, and this little charade they have going will be over.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Mrs. Bass?"

Blair swallows, glancing up at him with doe eyes. A smile plays at her lips as she takes a step closer to him, eyes dropping down to the waist of his swim trunks. "I'm sorry."

"That's all?" Chuck asks. He places a hand on her lower back, fingers dipping under her bathing suit. Blair's eyes widen in surprise, and she glances around at the other people on the beach before recovering.

"There must be some way I can make this up to you," she purrs, hands sliding up his chest.

Chuck grins, taking her hand and pulling her to the ocean. The minute her foot hits the water, she yelps. "_Chuck_, my hair. And the saltwater will ruin my manicure."

Chuck pauses, impatiently glancing back at his wife. "Blair, I thought you wanted to play." Blair sighs, silently saying goodbye to her prim cuticles before continuing to follow him.

"Head _above _water, Bass," she scolds when he playfully dips his head under the surface.

"I can manage that." Blair gasps as he drops his lips into the curve of her neck. Under the water, he presses against her, and there's something about the sea that electrifies every inch of her skin. He groans in her ear as she wraps her legs around him, ankles crossed at his lower back.

"Now," is all he whispers, their suits slipping down. Blair nods, glancing nervously at the small audience they're collecting on the beach. The guys from before are staring at them with their jaws dropped, an old lady shakes her head as she walks along the shore.

But as Chuck moves against her, Blair can't see anything but the sky above her, Caribbean blue.

And when he stills, breath harsh in her ear, the clouds come falling down.

:::

"My Elie Tahari sarong is ruined," Blair whines, tossing the remains of the garment in the trash. Chuck smirks from his spot on the bed, arms tucked behind his head.

"I'll buy you another one."

Blair rolls her eyes, hands on her hips. "That's not the point, Chuck. Although, it was _very _exciting to be on the opposite end of our little game for once. I'm fond of a jealous Bass."

"And I'm fond of hearing my wife moaning in my ear as the rest of the beach - "

_"Chuck_. We could've been caught. _Banned _from this resort for obscene behavior." Chuck smiles as he stands up, pulling her down to sit on his knee.

"Then I'd buy the resort."

"Is that your answer to everything?" she quips, smoothing back his hair. "Because Blair Bass can't be bought."

_Blair Bass_, Chuck repeats in his head. "I love the sound of that."

"And I love _you_," she replies. "But we're not spending another lazy afternoon in this bed. This isn't Monte Carlo." Blair flushes involuntarily, and Chuck raises an eyebrow.

"But those are such fond memories," he whispers, tugging on her bathing suit.

"Chuck, I'm still wet," she whines, slapping him lightly on the chest. He smiles, pressing his lips to hers.

"Oh, I know you are."

:::

"Where's the sun?" Blair groans, sliding off her sunglasses. She follows Chuck into his apartment – _their _apartment – and slumps onto the sofa.

"It's back in the Bahamas," Chuck huffs, tossing her bag onto the floor. He drops his head onto her stomach, closing his eyes.

"Don't," Blair replies, lifting his head. She flattens the material over her dress over her stomach and frowns. "I ate so much during this trip. I've probably gained – "

"Blair," Chuck sighs. "How many times do we have to go over this?"

Blair shakes her head, looking away. "You wouldn't understand."

"What is there to understand?" Chuck says, grasping her face in his hands. His eyes are fierce when they meet hers, and Blair loses her breath. "From the moment I met you, I thought you were _flawless_. Porcelain skin, sweet smile, dangerous eyes. In the eighth grade – "

"Before Victrola?"

"Before Victrola. There was always a part of me that wanted you, Blair. Nothing was beautiful before you. Nothing at all. I'll love you through all of your flaws. But this – " His fingers spread over her bare stomach. " – is not one of them."

Blair gasps as his head drops again to kiss her stomach. Her skin flushes a startling red, but it's not sexual. The grip on her hips isn't urgent, but soft. His lips whisper against her skin, and she closes her eyes at the contact.

"Chuck Bass," she whispers, running shaky fingers through his hair. "Such a romantic."

He smiles against her stomach. "Only for you."


	5. Stuck

**Author's Note: **Hooray for surprise continuations, right? At first, I had been hesitant to continue on with this story. I love Henry Bass, but I wasn't sure how I would do with writing Blair's pregnancy yet. But I decided not to give it up. I'll be doing a lot more one-shots with CB on their own, an AU where they had waited a bit longer to have Henry. As always, reviews are very appreciated. Let me know what you think! xoxo

* * *

"We're _boring_."

Chuck glances up at his wife, shutting the newspaper in his hands. There's an adorable pout on her face, and her arms are crossed tightly at her chest. He reaches out to pull her closer, but she just stares him down.

"What's wrong with you now?" he asks.

"It's Saturday night," she sighs, throwing her head back dramatically. "And we're just sitting here like, like – "

"A married couple?" Chuck finishes, shaking his head. "Blair, I'm exhausted. You know that things have been tough at the office. At the end of the day, I just want to be with my wife."

Three years ago, his words would have swept Blair off her feet. But now they just infuriate her. "After all of your years of boozing and partying, you're tired _now_? I can't believe you, Bass."

"I don't see what the problem is," Chuck says, returning his attention to the paper.

"Of course you don't. You're Chuck Bass. You don't have a care in the world," Blair sniffs, looking away. "This is how things start. You get bored, we start to fight, the divorce papers surface."

Chuck narrows his eyes at her, flinching at the word. But he's always been able to call his wife's bluff better than anyone else's. "Be my guest, Blair. Have your lawyer call mine."

Blair stifles a gasp. "_Fine_. I hope you enjoy those headlines. That's the only action you'll be seeing from now on." Blair heads to their bedroom, hands on her hips. Chuck sighs, rolling his eyes before following behind her. His eyes darken when her nightgown falls to the floor. But it's quickly replaced with a tight red dress that stops at her upper thighs.

"Where the hell are you going?" Chuck seethes when she brushes past him and slips her trench coat on. She stops at the hallway mirror, taking her time as she pouts, spreading a dark red gloss over her lips.

"Out," Blair replies simply, barely looking at him.

"You're not going anywhere," he huffs. He stands behind her in the mirror, chin on her shoulder, his fingers digging into her thighs. "Not dressed like this."

"We'll see about that," she challenges, her eyes locked on his.

"There's going to be a storm tonight," he says. "You're staying here."

But Blair slips past him, heels clicking in a steady rhythm until she disappears into the elevator.

"Fuck," Chuck murmurs through clenched teeth. In ten minutes, he's dressed. He slips into his limo, tilting his head back against the leather seat.

"Where to, Sir?" Arthur asks.

Chuck eyes the taxi speeding away in front of them. "Follow Mrs. Bass, Arthur." Chuck purses his lips. "It's going to be a long night."

:::

"So, do you have a boyfriend, or…?"

Blair eyes the slimy, greasy-haired man in front of her. "I'm married," she deadpans, flashing him the ring."

"I'm good at keeping secrets," the man replies, waggling his eyebrows. Blair's eyes roll up to the ceiling, and she takes another long sip of her drink.

"Are you bothering my wife?"

Blair smiles at the voice, recognizing it instantly. She turns on her heel, eyeing her husband carefully. She thinks of the games they played on their honeymoon, but they don't compare to this.

_This _jealousy is real.

And it sends a wave of heat straight to her core.

"She looks like she's getting along just fine without you," the man laughs, inching closer to Blair. She winces, finding his body odor repulsive.

"_Right_," Blair drawls, gulping down another drink. Chuck slides his hands to Blair's waist, squeezing before releasing her. He walks over to the creep with empty eyes. Blair gasps when he grasps the man's collar and pulls.

"Touch my wife," Chuck hisses, "and I'll break your hand." There's something about the way his eyes flicker, almost going completely black, that makes the slime ball back away, sputtering with raised hands. He disappears into the crowd in a second.

"Are you going to do that to every man who talks to me?" Blair slurs, sipping from her fourth glass. Chuck snatches it away from her, slamming it down on the bar counter.

"You're drunk, and we're going home."

"You're no fun," she pouts, hands sliding down his chest. "This is a _club_, Chuck. Lighten up. Dance with me."

Chuck remembers this Blair. It's the same one who didn't get into Yale five years ago, the wild alter ego that he found himself fantasizing about from time to time. He grasps her hand and pulls her out into the crowd of tipsy, grinding socialites. He turns to her face away from him, bowing her back against his front. He pulls her chin up with his fingers, his teeth raking over her ear as he speaks.

"Go ahead. Dance for me, Blair." His hand drops to her stomach, then a bit lower, pulling her flush against him. Blair's eyes widen in surprise as she feels the source of his need pressing hard against her. Despite their number of sexcapades, they'd never done something as raunchy as this in public. She feels the room spin as he works her against him.

Her head falls back onto his shoulder, and his breath is loud in her ear. His hands are on the hem of her skirt, toying with the skin of her thighs. And her hands are reaching back of their own accord, on the back of his legs, pulling him closer. He bends her foreward, and she wants to ask him how he learned to dance like this. But she can't find the words. She just moves and moves until she's delirious with pleasure.

She falls and falls with her husband, impossibly free.

_And not boring at all._

:::

"Rise and shine, Mrs. Bass," Chuck yells, that smarmy grin of his clear on his face. He yanks open the curtains, and light fills the room. Blair frowns, raising her hands to cover her ears.

"I hate you, Bass," she groans, digging her face into the pillow.

"I love you too," Chuck murmurs, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Even when you're hung over." He raises an eyebrow, rubbing her back.

Blair blanches. "Since when are _you _the sober one?"

Chuck smirks. "The show you put on last night was really spectacular. I always thought I'd seen you let loose at Victrola. But _this _was something else."

"Oh _God_," Blair whines. "But we were dancing, and – "

"And then you threw up. I had to clean you up in that vile bathroom and take you home," he chuckles. "You kept telling me not to touch you because your _husband _would kill me."

Blair smiles. "Now you know how much I love you."

Chuck grins. "I've always known that."

She shakes her head, glancing past him. She gasps when she sees that the window is completely white outside, the snow blending into a mass of giant flakes. "It's _snowing_."

Chuck rolls his eyes. "Well, I wasn't lying last night."

"How am I going to catch a cab in this storm? I have ten new models coming in from – "

"A _cab_? Blair, this is a Noreaster." His mouth curls into a wide smirk. "You and I are stuck in this hotel room until it's over."

:::

"Are you bored yet, Mrs. Bass?" Chuck rasps through his teeth as he moves over her for the third time that morning. "I know how you – _fuck _– hate being stuck here with me."

Blair tenses, throwing her head back, digging her nails into his shoulder as punishment. "Shutup, or I'll – _oh God – _hurt you."

Chuck smirks, picking up his pace. "I _love _it when you talk dirty, Blair."

:::

"_Chuck_, you don't have food here," Blair says, staring into the nearly empty refrigerator. "The power is out, and we're going to starve."

Chuck rolls his eyes. "Blair, this is your apartment, too."

Blair pouts, turning to look at her husband. "You don't let me cook for you."

"Do you not remember when you stuck a _can _into the microwave?" Chuck says. "I love you, Blair. But you're a lawsuit on The Empire waiting to happen."

"It was only a little bit of smoke," she murmurs, eyeing the microwave in the corner.

"Come on," Chuck says, leading her out of the kitchen. "I know how to make you happy."

"Ugh, you're insatiable," Blair groans. "Haven't you had enough for the day? My body is exhausted."

"I'll never get enough," Chuck argues, guiding her back to the bedroom. "But that's not what I was talking about." He sits Blair on the bed and takes a silver box from the drawer in their nightstand. He unwraps it, revealing rows of colorful pastries. He lifts a macaroon and feeds it to Blair, smirking as she moans with her mouth full.

"_Oh_," Blair sighs. "I don't think I've ever loved you more than I do right now."

"Is that why you married me?" Chuck smirks. "Because I come bearing gifts?"

Blair throws on her doe eyes, smiling innocently at him. "Of course not," she giggles. "You're _really _good in bed too."

:::

"Blair, we have a bed for a reason," Chuck sighs, watching his wife drape blankets and duvets over the space between the sofa and the living room table in dismay. The juvenile idea of building a _blanket fort _had occurred to her a half hour ago, and she'd been at it ever since.

"God, Bass. You're such a grump," Blair says. "I remember when you were actually fun."

Chuck's eyes widen as she shakes her head indignantly at him, continuing to layer on the fabric roof. Impulsively, he stands to grab one of the pillows on the chaise and throws it at her, bopping her straight on the head.

"You did _not_ just do that," Blair says, incredulous. She watches in amazement as Chuck's eyes sparkle like a young boy's would, with his hand caught in a cookie jar. She wonders when he last had any genuinely innocent fun. Blair shakes her head. How could he? Under Bart's care, he'd gone from strollers straight to strip clubs.

Blair smiles, grabbing a pillow of her own. "This means war, Bass."

Chuck smirks, taking a step towards her. "You're on."

:::

An hour later, they're panting, sprawled out atop the remnants of their plush warzone. Blair is in her black La Perlas, and Chuck is in the silk pajama bottoms to match. Blair curls up on his chest in the darkness, and he smiles up at the ceiling.

"What are you thinking about?" she murmurs sleepily.

"Junior year," he smirks. "Could you imagine telling the Queen B that she'd end up married to _me_?"

Blair laughs, pressing her face into his shoulder. "Could you imagine telling the biggest _man-whore _in Manhattan that he'd be lucky enough to marry Blair Waldorf?"

Chuck shakes his head. "You know, I'm _always_ in love with you."

Blair frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"I've never understood why you were different," Chuck starts, his voice heavy. "From all of the other girls, I mean. But since that night at Victrola, you've been right here." He slides her hand up to his chest, over his thudding heart. "Every time I touch you, every time I wake up to you, I never get tired of it. It still scares me."

They're silent for a moment. Finally, Blair wipes the small tear on her cheek and presses a kiss to his skin.

"Inevitable," she whispers.

He nods, pulling his fingers through her hair. "Exactly."


	6. Found

There's something about Chuck and Blair that no one can quite explain. They fight too often, too _fiercely_ for it to be love. But somehow, it still is. Their love is worn and torn and unbreakable. It's weathered miles and countries and broken promises and empty mistakes.

A girl who loved alone, and a boy who didn't know how.

Their friends watch them sometimes, wondering how they grew up and into each other, wondering how two pieces can fit so _exactly_, so perfectly. They are the same, and they are different when they need each other to be. It's a beautiful thing, really. She is his Blair – strong and witty, lustful and caring. And he is her Chuck – open and in love, protective and unbroken.

Time will not touch them.

And their string will not be severed.

Because a love like that –

It always wins.

:::

Blair expects the apartment to be empty when she arrives at The Empire on Monday afternoon. She tosses her coat onto the chaise, too tired to scold herself about wrinkling the silk. She ambles over to their bedroom, sighing as she throws herself onto the duvet.

"Argh," Chuck groans. His wife is tiny, but her impact is heavy. He gently rolls her away, and Blair gasps in surprise.

"_Chuck_?"

"Blair," he groans, turning onto his other side. Blair purses her lips, cocking her head to one side. Ever relentless, she straddles his back, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck.

"You're not at work," she states. Chuck opens his eyes in disdain. Blair glances down at his wrinkled pajamas, the shadow clouding his jaw. She'd gone to a spa with Serena – and _Georgina _of all people – that past weekend. Sparks had always had potential, just as long as her schemes weren't targeted directly at them.

"Apparently not," Chuck murmurs, feebly attempting to shake her off.

Blair sighs. "Chuck," she whispers, lips brushing his ear. "What am I going to have to do to get you to talk?"

Chuck jerks in bed, sending Blair onto the comforter beside him with an audible groan. "I'm sick."

"_Sick_?" Blair scoffs. "You're Chuck Bass. Don't you just pay colds to go away?"

"Leave it alone, Blair. I'm not in the mood."

Blair scowls, making a face at his back. "Did you take medicine?" Chuck offers a noncommittal nod.

"Scotch doesn't count," Blair adds.

"_Jesus_," Chuck says, finally turning to face her. "You can't fix everything, Blair. Just let me sleep."

"Chuck – "

"Fine, stay," Chuck says, his voice going cold. "I'll go." Blair swallows as he makes his way out of the room, stumbling over a few of his steps. She lets out a long, frustrated sigh, hoping he'll hear. But his footsteps fade, and he makes no motion to return. It's then that a crisp ivory sheet of paper on their nightstand catches her eye.

_To Mr. and Mrs. Bass_

_You are cordially invited to the Charles Bass Gala, in honor of the attendee's success and accomplishments. Please join us in presenting him with the Bartlett Award for his exceptional developments in the management and growth of The Empire Hotel._

Blair drops the sheet in her lap gleefully, getting up to congratulate her husband. But by the time she walks into the living room, the elevator doors are shutting, and Chuck Bass is gone.

:::

It's a barely known fact that Chuck Bass plays the piano. That, in fact, he could've been a prodigy in another lifetime, the way those fingers ghost so magically over the set of black and white keys. When they were ten years old, Blair found him in her living room during a play date, his legs hanging over the tall piano bench.

She'd never seen his lips form anything other than a cocky smirk, so she was surprised to see his mouth set in a straight line as he played, his eyes focused on the masterpiece unfolding before him. When he was finished, he sat for a long time, his eyes in a daze.

"That was really pretty."

Chuck's eyes darted up to her in surprise, and he instantly backed away from the piano. The arrogance washed over his features as he took a seat on her sofa.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Blair crossed her arms over her chest. "Look Bass, I'm not blind or deaf. You play nicely."

Chuck shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. "Shouldn't you be chasing after Nathaniel's coattails?"

Blair ignored him, walking over to plop down on the seat next to him. "Why doesn't anybody know that you play?"

"Because I _don't_," Chuck said, exasperated.

Blair rolled her eyes. "Yeah, obviously. I suppose that was just a fluke. Mozart possessed the great Chuck Bass."

"My mother played," Chuck said, his jaw strained. "Or so I was told." He immediately wanted to take the words back.

"Oh," Blair replied, glancing over at him. "Well – "

"My father," Chuck continued, "says it's a waste of time."

Blair frowned. "That's silly. The piano is lovely. I don't see why – "

"If my father says it's a waste of time, then it is," Chuck hissed. He looked away from her. "Pianists don't amount to anything, anyway. And my skills are hardly impressive, and I'm not allowed to play at home."

Blair shrugged. "Parents aren't always right, Bass. I mean, my mother thinks that headbands will never be back in style." Blair scoffed at the thought. "But you're really good. You shouldn't let Bart make you think otherwise."

Chuck glanced at her, watching as she spun on her heel and made her way up the stairs. He touched his lips in horror, realizing that his lips weren't frowning or smirking or laughing.

They were smiling.

:::

Chuck Bass doesn't become a pianist.

But sometimes, when they're in bed, he gets this lost look in his eyes, a fire that Blair has memorized. His fingers play her body, tapping patterns on her goose-fleshed skin, tracing her curves like keys – driving her to ecstasy until he forces the music from her lips in a symphony of cries and whimpers and moans.

And when they're done, he hides his face from her, his pants harsh and regretful. And it's then that she wastes her mind on Bart, thoughts wandering to the little boy at the piano all those years ago.

And she wonders how a father could take so many things away from his only son.

:::

Blair finds him at the bar that night, his body slumped over the counter, his jacket nearly falling off his shoulders. She braces herself before walking over, signaling for the bartender to take the shot glass in front of him.

"I paid for that," he slurs, reaching out and coming up with air.

Blair rolls her eyes, taking the seat next to him. "That's not the only thing you'll be paying for tonight." She glances up at the bartender. "A water for Mr. Bass, please."

"Always so desperate to nurture me," Chuck drawls, rolling his eyes to her. "Don't you get tired of chasing me around?"

Blair sighs. "Insult me all you want, Chuck, if that's what makes you feel better. But we both know what this is really about."

"You don't know anything," Chuck rasps. But his voice catches, pain flickering in his eyes.

"I'm your wife," Blair says, handing him the glass of water. When he doesn't take it, she tugs at his chin, forces it to his lips. "Like it or not, I see right through you." She pauses, sliding the invitation over to him. Blair clears her throat. "Your father received that award when we were kids."

Chuck pauses, staring down at it. He looks up at her, his resolving cracking right before her eyes. "I – "

"It's okay to be afraid," she says, holding his chin with her small fingers. "But it's not okay to do this to yourself. Not after all of this time."

"This is who I am. _This _is who you married," Chuck says, his voice bitter. "You should know that by now."

Blair shakes her head, holding his gaze for another moment. "You don't have to worry about living up to who he was, Chuck. You're already the better man. You always have been, and you always will be."

"And how do you know that?" He struggles to keep his voice hard, his face expressionless, but his hand raises of its own accord, slipping over hers.

"Because you were afraid of this, too," she says, gesturing to the space between them, "but you loved me anyway. You love me more than anyone else ever has." He doesn't deny it. _How can he?_ "I've always believed in you, Chuck. And even if you fail, even if it all falls down, I'll be there to help you pick it up."

He nods before looking away, squeezing her fingers. "I love you, Blair."

She let's out a small smile, a breath of relief.

"But, I'm sorry" he continues, his hands falling away from hers. "I won't be there tomorrow night."

"Chuck – "

But the tenderness flickers off, another drink is ordered, and he doesn't look at her again.

:::

_He'll be here, he'll be here, he'll be here._

Blair repeats it in her head like a mantra as she whisks her way through the crowd, a confident smile pasted on her face. She'd refused to indulge in his sulking back at the hotel any longer and dressed to go on her own. If he wouldn't honor himself, she would. At least one Bass would be present.

Or two.

Blair spots the blonde woman from across the room, Lily Bass [if the last name hasn't pulled a quick change yet] standing beside Eric and Serena. Blair straightens up, makes her way over to them.

"Lily," Blair breathes. "Chuck hasn't – he hasn't spoken to you, has he?"

Lily's eyes widen. "He's not here?"

Blair looks away, pursing her lips. "He's not."

"Oh, B," Serena starts, but Blair waves her away, refusing to be the object of her pity.

Lily looks at her with kind eyes. She and Blair have never had much of a relationship, connected only by mutual love and a stream of societal events. But she sees herself in the petite brunette, knows what it's like to be hopelessly infatuated with a Bass man, no matter how different Charles and Bart were.

"Blair," she says, placing a light hand on her arm. "If Charles will show up for any reason, it's you."

:::

But Blair isn't so sure about Lily's words when the speaker steps up to the podium an hour later and the seat beside her remains unfilled. His name is called, and she tenses.

"I'll go," Blair murmurs, standing to accept the award, but she's stopped by a gentle hand on her elbow, a familiar deep drawl in her ear.

"That won't be necessary."

Blair looks straight at Chuck, smiling in surprise. He kisses her cheek amidst the clapping before walking up to the stage. She takes a moment to admire him, clean shaven and always handsome in his tailored suit. Across the table, Lily winks at her.

"When I was young, I was never sure that I could fill my father's shoes. You all knew Bart Bass as the elusive businessman who took Manhattan by storm, but hardly ever as my father. And, unfortunately, the same went for me." Chuck clears his throat, catching Blair's eye. She smiles lightly, nodding. "But I'm not accepting this award in the shadow of my father. I'm accepting it as _Chuck Bass_. I'm sure that you all know the name very well." Laughter across the room. "And while I do thank the Bartlett Society for presenting me with this honor, I owe this all to my wife, Blair Cornelia Bass. A long time ago, she told me that I carried her, but I'm not sure if that's entirely true. Her love for me is foolproof – always what I want and exactly what I need. Without her, the man before you wouldn't exist." Blair raises a shaky hand to her chest, right over her heart. "Some of you may know that Blair didn't exactly have the most _traditional _wedding, and I'll spend the rest of my life making that up to her. And I'd like to start with the first dance I owe her."

The crowd erupts into applause, and Blair finds herself in Chuck's arms, at the center of the wooden dance floor.

_A drop in the ocean, a change in the weather._

_I was praying that you and I would end up together._

"That was quite the speech, Bass," Blair says, slipping her fingers through his. He smirks, placing a hand on her hip, whisking her across the room.

"I had some last minute inspiration," he retorts.

_It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert._

_But I'm holding you closer than most because you are my heaven._

"I'm sorry," he finally says, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I shouldn't have pushed you away."

Blair nods, pulling him closer. His nose brushes hers, and she closes her eyes for a moment. "When are you going to get it into that stubborn mind of yours? I'm not going anywhere. Not without you."

_New England as the leaves change._

_The last excuse that I'll claim._

_I was a boy who loved a woman like a little girl._

"I love you," he murmurs, pressing his lips to hers once. And then again. And once more after that.

Blair basks in the memory, forgets where she is. "Can you say it again?"

Chuck grins, squeezing her hip. "Is that a challenge, Mrs. Bass?" He kisses her again, his lips lingering over hers. "I love you." Another kiss. "I love you. There's three...four..."

_A drop in the ocean, a change in the weather._

_I was praying that you and I would end up together._

_It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert._

_But I'm holding you closer than most because you are my heaven._

_You are my heaven._


	7. Games

He'll never directly admit this to Blair, lest he have to own up to being _just _as romantic as she is – but breakfast at their penthouse is the highlight of every single one of his days. They sit at the table with an array of pastries and delectable foods spread out in front of them. He often stumbles out in his silk pajamas, drags his chair over to hers, tasting fresh juice on her tongue when he kisses her good morning. She drapes her legs over one of his and they share the _Times _– he gets 'business' and she gets 'style' – as she pops blueberries into his mouth and he kisses the butter away from the corner of her lips.

The whole thing is just so _domestic _and normal. This is better than Chuck and Blair holding hands, better than Chuck and Blair going to the movies.

This is Chuck and Blair growing up together.

And he's never felt more loved in his entire life.

:::

"What are you thinking about?" Blair asks, her tiny toes nudging at his knee. Chuck smirks, his fingers wandering up her thigh in an absent-minded pattern. She shivers under his touch, nearly dropping the grape in her hand.

"You look ravishing in my robe," Chuck drawls, leaning over to kiss her jaw. She grins, capturing his lips just in time. She sits back and cozies into the white silk draped over her tiny frame.

"Chuck Bass liking an article of clothing while I'm still wearing it?" she murmurs in faux disbelief. "It must be the apocalypse."

"Hm, must be," he retorts, taking his phone from the table. Blair sighs as he scrolls through it.

"What has you so hooked on your phone, Bass?' Blair pouts.

He glances up at her, touching her chin with the tip of his finger. "The Empire is hosting a party for the launch of its new west wing, one of the largest we've had in a while. I've been preoccupied with the last minute details. Apparently, my employees can't even see to signing for packages on their own."

Blair rolls her eyes. "You and I must be hiring from the same pool. B for Waldorf Designs is throwing a launch party too, and the incompetence of my staff never ceases to surprise me." She draws in a long sigh and takes a bite of her croissant as he chuckles.

_"It's this Saturday."_

They say it at the same time, silence ensuing after the fact. Chuck raises his eyebrows, and Blair frowns, pulling her legs from his lap.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I thought I heard you say that your party is on Saturday night."

"You're not mistaken," Chuck murmurs, already dreading the fight that'll come of this.

"Well, you'll just have to postpone it."

Chuck glances at her. "You clearly don't remember who you married, Blair. I'm not moving the date. If you care so much, _you _move your date."

"No," Blair seethes. "_You _don't remember who you married. Reschedule your party, Bass."

Chuck rolls his eyes. "You basically just stole my rebuttal."

"So you're really going to miss the highlight of my fashion career," Blair hisses, "for a night of debauchery with floozies who want a cheap ticket into your club?"

"Please," Chuck sighs. "Let's not pretend like this is about my attendance. You're worried that The Empire will draw your little socialites away from Waldorf Designs. Which it will."

"I can't believe you," she spits, pushing away from the table. He gulps as she slips the robe from her shoulders, tossing it at him. She stomps away to get dressed, leaving him with a slow burn spreading through the pit of his stomach. He follows her into their bedroom, but she's already slipped on a lilac dress. Her eyes find him in the mirror and she frowns. "Good luck getting morning sex – or _any _sex – until you change the date of your party."

"You're just as insatiable as I am," he challenges, arms crossed over his chest. "We'll see how long this lasts." He reaches out for her as she brushes past him, but she slaps him away.

"You'll be waiting a long time, Bass," she calls as she steps through the elevator doors.

He smirks, rolling his eyes at his wife's back before dialing a number on his phone.

"Nathaniel," he greets. "Listen, The Empire will be hiring The Spectator for the week. And I'll be needing your services as well. There's a bet that I feel like winning."

:::

"S, I need your help," Blair sighs into the phone, angrily pointing one of her staff in the other direction. "That _Basstard _is waging a war on Waldorf Designs. I need every contact you have, every useful guy you've slept with – "

"_B_."

" – in order to make this launch happen. I'll be damned if he uses this to play one of his conniving games."

"Right. Because that's not exactly what you're doing."

"Serena," Blair says. "Have I ever doubted you?"

"Yes."

"No. Have I ever been anything but supportive of your flawed schemes and horrible ideas? When you hooked up with a sugar daddy whose daughter is dating your ex, when you then decided to settle down with _Gossip Girl_."

"Could you not call him that?" Serena groans.

"Sorry," Blair amends. "Gossip _Dan_."

"Blair, why don't you sit down with Chuck and have an _adult _conversation with him about this?" Serena suggests. "It's never going to work out if you two keep sabotaging each other for your own entertainment."

"You know Chuck, Serena. Once he's waged war, he's not going to back down."

There's a pause as Serena weighs her chances of winning this argument – which are slim to none. Finally, she relents. "Alright, B. What do you need me to do?"

Blair grins, nodding at a fabric sample in front of her. "Make some calls. We need everyone we can round up. Knowing Chuck, he won't bother with getting his own hands dirty. He'll be calling in an army."

Across town, Chuck stands at the head of his impromptu assembly, suit on and clipboard in hand. If it were anyone else, it would look ridiculous. But he's _Chuck Bass_, and when he sets his mind to something, no one can stop him.

Unless, of course, Blair Bass is his opponent.

"Gentlemen, I've called you here today because I'm issuing a formal takedown on my wife."

"Oh, yeah. Because that's healthy," Dan murmurs. Chuck disregards him, eyeing the two men clustered on the chaise in front of him.

"Nathaniel, I need you to use The Spectator to draw all attention to The Empire this week. Blair is going to use Sage as her new minion, so you can't let her get to you. We all know that you have the attention span of…well, nothing." Nate frowns as Chuck turns to Dan. "And Humphrey, you – why _are _you here?"

Jack Bass walks into the room, the entirety of Chuck's snack bar balanced in his arms. He clears his throat and smirks. "Because he's Gossip Girl."

"_Was _Gossip Girl," Dan corrects. "And I'm here to help. Because the past is behind us, and we're friends now…"

"Hm," Chuck says, contemplating this. "I suppose you could make yourself useful. Unless your deranged obsession with my sister will get in the way of that."

"Come _on_."

"Fine," Chuck sighs. "Then let's do this."

:::

By the next day, both parties have their plans in motion. Blair shows up at The Empire to pick up her sketchbook, working briskly so that she can avoid running into Chuck. But when she walks in, the lights are dim, the air is warm. She pauses, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Splayed out around the living room is a trail of crisp pink peonies. Blair picks one up, holding it to her nose as she eyes the movie playing on their flatscreen.

_Breakfast at Tiffany's._

Blair wrinkles her nose, smelling a fish.

And it just so happens to be a Bass.

Suddenly, she feels hands on her, one on her hip as the other pulls her coat and purse off her shoulders. Chuck's lips are on the back of her neck as he pushes her over to the chaise. She sinks down with a small frown, watching as he drops down to his knees in front of her, Audrey Hepburn reading her lines in the background.

"_What _do you think you're doing?"

"I've missed my wife," he drawls, hands wrapping around her ankles, pulling off her shoes. "And from the incessant moaning in your sleep last night, I _know _that you've missed me too." His lips drop down to her knees, her thighs. Blair sucks in a breath. "So let me – " Kiss. " – take care of you – " Kiss. " – while you watch your favorite movie."

Blair's eyes roll back, and she reaches out to tangle her fingers in his hair. "I can't – _oh _– do this. It still counts as – _God _– sex."

"Hm, does it?" Chuck asks, nose skimming the hem of her dress before he pushes it over her thighs.

"_Chuck_," Blair moans. "I can't – I'm not going to – "

"So change it," he retorts, sliding his hand up to the lace lingerie she has on under her outfit. Chuck toys with the material, waiting for her to register his words.

Blair pauses, fingers clenching tighter. "_What_?"

"Change your date."

"I knew it," Blair hisses, yanking his head up by his hair. Chuck groans in protest, pulling away as Blair slips her shoes back on and yanks her coat over her shoulders. "You're the _worst_."

"Now," Chuck calls, "I thought we agreed to share that title."

"I can't believe you tried to pull this over on me," she spits, reaching for her cellphone. "_I_ invented the sex scheme."

Chuck smirks as his wife jabs at the button for the elevator. He straightens up his rumpled hair.

"And Bass?" she adds, glancing over her shoulder. "You might want to head over to The Empire as soon as you can."

Chuck narrows his eyes. "Why?"

"Because you weren't the only one who felt like being generous today, _darling_," she says smiling sweetly. "You're going to be a little short of staff. I put in a call to management. As you know, Mrs. Bass can be very persuasive."

"Blair, you didn't – "

"They were more than happy to get the rest of the week off," she quips, stepping into the elevator. "Maybe you should join them."

And with that, she's gone.

:::

It turns out that the scheming teenagers who fell in love at seventeen haven't faded away with marriage.

Blair's models are the first to go – lured away by Jack Bass and his promises of jet planes and luxury suites downtown. In retaliation, The Empire's liquor shipment gets replaced with five hundred cases of Mott's apple juice. And so all of Blair's fabric samples are traded in for neon polyester and _hemp_, which is immediately followed by an email to The Empire's event planner – instructing that the color scheme be changed to a pastel pink.

Dan even tries his hand at breaking into the Waldorf Designs headquarters, but it's to no avail. He's stopped short by a smirking brunette with icy blue eyes, stationed where the receptionist usually is.

"Georgina, what a surprise," Dan murmurs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I, um – I was just coming around to see if Serena was here."

Georgina sighs, cocking her head to the side. "You know, I'm disappointed in you, Humphrey. Six years of posing as a bitchy teenage girl, and you're still a total amateur."

But one never has the upper-hand for very long. The games are played, and they come home to a hostile silence every night.

_This isn't how it's supposed to be._

But it's all they've ever known.

It's always been love disguised as pain.

And bits of pieces of what they were linger within who they've become.

:::

When Saturday night comes, Blair steps into their bedroom in a strapless, pale pink gown. Chuck glances up, blinking twice at the vision in front of him. Her hair falls in dark ringlets to the curve of her neckline, her cheeks glowing as she swipes nude gloss on her lips.

"You look stunning," he admits, coming to stand behind her. Her eyes widen before she shoots him the smallest of smiles.

"And you look handsome," Blair says, fixing the tie around his neck. She turns to face away from him, lifting her hair to the nape of her neck. "Will you…"

"Of course," he says, reaching to tug her zipper up her back. But his fingers don't leave her when he's done, remaining to caress the nape of her neck, trailing across her shoulder blades. Too soon, he releases her, admiring the finished product.

"So," Blair says, pursing her lips.

"So," Chuck echoes.

"There will still be a seat for you tonight, at the party," she says, eyes searching his. "Despite your heinous behavior this week."

Chuck smirks, trailing a finger down her cheek. "There will still be a seat for you at The Empire, Mrs. Bass. Right next to mine."

Blair swallows, glancing down to hide the pain in her eyes. "It's a shame that they'll both be empty then."

"It _is _a shame."

Blair holds his gaze for another second before she finally turns away, reaching for the powder brush on her nightstand. Chuck lets out a breath before he puts on his coat and makes his way to the door. It's her voice that stops him at the foyer, so low that he almost misses it.

"Chuck?"

"Yes?"

"I'm so – " She frowns, searching for the words. "I'm so _proud _of you."

His eyes soften, and his arms jerk up on impulse, aching to wrap around her waist. But instead, they drop at his sides, hanging limply. All he can muster up is a weak response, a cowardly one.

"I'm proud of you, too."

:::

It's an hour into the launch party and Chuck has not left his perch at the dinner table, mindlessly sipping at his glass of Scotch. Even Humphrey seems to be having a better time than he is, and Jack has found entertainment in guests far too young to be tasteful. Nate finally finds him, pounding him on the back.

"Come on, man," Nate calls over the music. Chuck glances up, and they watch the other twenty-something year olds grind and giggle on the dance floor with tipsy promises to return for the opening. "This went exactly as you wanted it to."

Another sip, more liquor burning down his throat. "Right."

"Unless, of course, you'd rather be somewhere else."

Chuck looks up again, frowning as he touches the rim of his glass. "I've been doing this my entire life, but this is her big break. I should be there. I shouldn't have – "

"_Go_. You're not kids anymore," Nate insists. "You're _married_. You don't need an excuse to love her."

Chuck grins, nodding his head. "Wow, Archibald. You seem to be growing wiser with age. Next you'll be running for mayor."

"That's a scary thought," Nate laughs. "Look, go. I'll hold down the fort here."

"Thanks, man," Chuck replies, already pushing away from the table. "And…keep my uncle away from any form of The Empire's paperwork? It's been a while, but old habits seem to die hard."

Ten blocks away, Blair sighs as the last of her models sashay down her runway in perfect unison. All around her, the crowd raves, getting to their feet to celebrate her work. Serena nudges her in recognition, and Blair stands to take a bow.

"B, that was _amazing_," Serena murmurs as the guests trickle out to the lounge area. But Blair's eyes are vacant as she taps the screen of her phone.

"I wonder how the board took to Chuck's party," she says, tapping her chin. "They can be so uptight sometimes. I hope they don't – "

"Blair," Serena groans. "This is the fifth time you've brought him in the past half hour. _Why _are you still here when you should be at The Empire?"

"Because this is _my _moment, my fashion show – "

"Which ended five minutes ago," Serena cuts in. "Go to Chuck, Blair. We all know how this story goes. You fight, you destroy each other, and then gravity pulls you back together to do it all over again."

Blair rolls her eyes, hailing the coat check woman for her wrap. "I _hate _it when you're right."

Serena smirks. "You have to let it be my turn sometimes."

And then Blair's off, racing to the door and out to the cold night air. She hails a cab in under a minute, breathlessly spewing out The Empire's address. She drums her fingers on the windowsill as they mull along the city streets, the tab running up as she waits.

"I didn't ask for the scenic route," Blair hisses. "This is an emergency."

"I'm sorry, Miss," the driver calls. "Rush hour traffic." He shrugs. "What can you do?"

"You can take 62nd street," she says, leaning forward.

"No can do," he argues. "It's an opposite end. That's illegal."

"Does it look like I care?" she asks, exasperated. "I'm Blair Bass. Your simple mind probably doesn't know what that means, but if you value your spot behind that wheel, you'll take this street."

There's something about the sharpness in her voice, the glint of severity in her eyes that makes the driver gulp and swivel onto the street. But just as they reach the middle of it, the cab jerks to a stop, sending Blair forward in her seat.

"Can't you drive correctly?"

"I'm _sorry_. It's this limo. It's blocking my street."

"Forget it," Blair says, tossing a twenty-dollar bill at him. "I'll walk the rest of the way." She steps out of the cab in a hurry, only to find that the passenger in the aforementioned limo has gotten out too.

Oh my –

"_Chuck_," she breathes. She's in his arms in a second, digging her face into his chest, throwing her arms around his neck. Blair lets out a breathless laugh as he tugs her closer.

"What are you doing here?" he asks. "I was just on my way to your show."

"_I _was just on my way to The Empire," Blair cuts in. "I'm sorry. All I wanted to do was _be there_ for you, and – "

"It all turned into a messy game," Chuck finishes, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "But you're not my enemy. You're my wife, and I love you so much that it petrifies me. From now on, we stand together. You're my partner. Let the rest of the world bear the brunt of our schemes."

Blair closes her eyes and smiles. "Agreed." She pulls him into a kiss, lips fierce against his. They part together, breathe together, pressed so tightly that they can pass for one person from afar. When she finally pulls away, she can hardly breathe.

"What do we do now?" Blair asks. "Your party, my show…We still have to choose one."

"But I'd much prefer our third option," Chuck murmurs. Blair follows his gaze to the limo behind him. Her eyes darken just as his do, and they share a wicked glance. "It's been a week. I _need _my wife."

The words send a rush of heat across Blair's skin, down to her core. She bites down on her lip, nodding in assent. Her fingers find Chuck's as he leads her to the car, helping her into the back. His hands are already on her, her lips already on his neck, when Chuck calls out to Arthur in the front.

"Just drive, Arthur," he says, raising the middle partition. "Mrs. Bass and I have a long night ahead of us."

And so it begins –

Again.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hey guys. First of all, thank you for all of the supportive reviews. Keep them coming - they're all amazing and so helpful. It took me forever to write this chapter, and I still don't know how I feel about the final product, so I just hope you guys like it. On a side note, I wanted to share a bit of a teaser about a future project I'm working on. Because _Turning Tables _is finished and _A Beautiful Friendship_ will be done in about four more chapters, I have a new series in the works called _Wires_. It's a darker fic (which will be rated-M) about a young Chuck and Blair at boarding school. Here's a snippet from the prologue:

She wanted to breathe, and he did too.

They were the same hard liquor, burning down your throat and to your core and to your brain. The same wayward souls. They were both fucked up – _but not that much_.

They were both a little dead inside.

His hand curled around hers, rough fingers sinking into her porcelain skin. There were tears in her eyes as the wind whipped at their faces. Music from the party blared behind them. Her heart sunk when his eyes flitted to hers, blazing even in the darkness.

She gasped as her foot slipped on loose gravel.

"It's now or never, Waldorf."


	8. Fear

There's a part of Blair that not even Chuck has reached.

She pushes it inside, hides it away until she forgets that it's even there. She supposes that she never quite grew up, never quite learned how to cope the right way.

_Blair Waldorf doesn't feel pain._

She isn't weak.

But as Chuck pulls her into his side, lulling her to sleep with a hand over her stomach at night, her throat tightens and her mind reaches, forcing her to remember. Forcing her to fall apart all over again.

:::

Once she was released from the hospital post her accident, after she'd made the silly pact of God, after her world had shifted into a Chuck-less oblivion, Blair threw herself into wedding plans, grasping onto the bit of sanity that she had left. It was easy for the rest of them to go along with that, to forget the loss, the emptiness inside of her. It was almost as if things made sense again.

Blair Waldorf would not be a mother.

But it was Serena, of all people, who refused to forget so easily. Blair had been in the middle of waving away a cluster of flower samples when Serena caught her wrist, pulling her away from the finger-pointing and call-making.

"_What _do you think you're doing, Serena?" Blair hissed, prying herself away. "This wedding isn't going to plan itself. I have a three caterers coming, the string quartets are auditioning for me in an hour – "

"_Blair_," Serena snapped. She paused, steadying herself before beginning again. "B, I promised you once that I'd never let you run away. You almost did during junior year, and I'm not going to let that happen again."

Blair tensed. "I'm not running away. I'm right here." She turned away, pursing her lips. "Now, if you'll excuse me – "

"Blair, you lost your baby," Serena called. "It _happened_. You can't just pretend. You have to feel – "

"Feel what, Serena?" When Blair turned, fury crossed her features, her eyes blazing. "Grief, regret, _mourning_? You don't think it hurts? You don't think it keeps me up _every _night?"

"Blair, I'm so sorry."

It was then that Blair fell to her knees, right in the middle of their sitting room, hands shaking as she dropped her gaze to the ground. "What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to forget when there was nothing to bury? There were no pictures in memoriam. Everyone else kept going, life went _on _like nothing happened."

Serena knelt in front of Blair, reaching out to pull her in for a hug. Blair let out a broken sob as she dropped her face into the curve of her friend's neck.

"It's okay, B," Serena whispered, fingers tracing through Blair's hair.

"And it was my fault," Blair continued. "I got into that limo with Chuck. I chose this for myself. And the only person who understands, he's – " Blair cut herself off, her whole body trembling at the words.

"I can call Chuck," Serena tried. "He'll come for you. He always does."

"I _can't_," Blair hissed. She shoved away, wiping at the tears on her face. "Being with Chuck comes at a price. He and I – we're a disaster. Something always has to fall at our expense. And I – " Blair let out a shaky breath. "It'll be him next time."

"B, you can't be afraid to – "

"I'm _not _afraid." Blair pushed up from the floor, straightening herself. "I'm moving on. I'm growing up."

"Growing up doesn't mean forgetting," Serena called to Blair's retreating form. Blair stopped at the stairway as Serena continued. "It means having the courage to say goodbye. No matter how hard it is."

:::

It was on the next night that Blair finally found solace in her room, dismissing Dorota and locking the door behind her. She sat at her vanity, staring at herself with empty eyes. Her hand fell to her stomach, tracing over her own skin, willing things to be different, willing herself to wake up from this nightmare. She stayed that way for a half hour before decidedly pulling a bundle of stationery from her desk, pen poised over the ivory sheets.

And with Serena's words fresh in her mind, she tried to say goodbye.

_Dear Audrey,_

_That was what I was going to name you, you know. Audrey Cornelia Waldorf-Bass. You were going to be beautiful – you were going to be everything. _

_I didn't know if I could be a mother. I didn't know if I could _love_ anything like a mother could. That's for people like Dorota, who know how to carry others. Who know how to love unconditionally. _

_This will have to be our little secret, but I've always been afraid. As much as I love Eleanor, I never wanted to be like her. Because people always walk away, and they leave you broken. They pull at the pieces and make you their own, and there's nothing left when they walk away._

_But I was going to try, Audrey. I was going to dress you up in pretty bows and tell you stories on the steps of the MET. I was going to watch movies with you on Sunday, and I was going to _be there_ to braid your hair every morning, before school. I was going to love you just as much as I love – _

_I was – _

_You were going to have a family, too. Your father would have loved you. He's a wonderful man, Louis. You would have adored him. _

_But you would have had a Dad, too. Chuck…he was going to love you so much. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted to be a father more than any other man can even fathom. It was he who showed me how to love. And he was going to be better for you, for me. You would have been so happy with us._

_I would have loved you forever._

_I think I still will._

_You'll always be my Audrey – always a part of me that I could never forget. And maybe, one day, you and I will meet. Maybe, one day, we'll get our chance._

_Love,_

_Blair, Your Mother._

:::

"Blair, what's wrong?"

Blair gasps as Chuck's nose skims her cheek. She sits up in bed, entirely disoriented, her vision swimming. Chuck presses his fingers into the nape of her neck, massaging as he always does. She knows that it's supposed to be comforting, that he's learning how to be her husband through moments like these.

But she can't breathe.

"Chuck, please," Blair whispers. "Just – " She loses her breath, hands clawing at the sheets beneath her. Chuck's eyes widen in alarm, his hand rubbing circles on her back as she drowns in the darkness.

"Talk to me, Blair," he murmurs. "You're alright." His hands are all over her, down her back, around her waist, to her stomach –

"_No_," Blair spits, slapping at his hand. She pulls away from him, ignoring the sting of rejection that colors his features. But he's back again in a second, tugging her chin up with two fingers.

"It's you and me here, Blair," Chuck says. "Tell me what's wrong." She parts her lips to speak, but her stomach churns in the same instant. Blair claps her hand over her mouth, fingers squeezing her own cheek. "Blair – "

But she's already running for the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

:::

"I want to know what's wrong with Blair."

"I don't – "

"_Don't _try the dumb blonde routine on me," Chuck sighs, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear. "She won't talk to me – she won't even _look _at me. If anyone know what's going on, it's you."

On the other end of the line, Serena draws in a breath. "I'm not going to be the middle man between you two, not anymore. And neither is Nate. Maybe you should sit down and talk to her about it, and then – "

"I'm sorry, do you _know_ my wife?" Chuck shakes his head, eyes drifting from the computer screen in front of him. "Tell me what's wrong with Blair, so that I can help her. We're not in high school anymore. This isn't a game."

"I'm sorry, Chuck," Serena replies, her voice weary. "But you're right. We aren't in high school anymore. You and Blair need to figure this one out on your own." When she hangs up, Serena throws her phone into her purse, glaring at her best friend.

"I can't believe that this is the _second _time I'm doing this," she sighs, handing Blair a cup of tea. Blair rolls her eyes in turn, taking a small sip.

"_Please_, S," Blair retorts. "You used me as your alibi for the entirety of our high school career."

"When we were _seventeen._ You have to tell him," Serena insists. "You can't just hide out here and avoid him forever. Are you just going to wait until you start showing? Have a big confessional when your water breaks?"

"Right. Nice 'holier than thou' act, S," Blair sniffs. "Because Saint Serena has never been guilty of withholding the truth, right?" She slams the cup down on the table, hitching her bag onto her shoulder as her friend watches on in disbelief. "Tell whoever you want. I won't bother you anymore."

Blair decides to walk back to the Waldorf Penthouse. She fights the tears in her eyes as she totters in her heels, shivering against the pre-Spring breeze. It only takes two blocks for the limo to pull up beside her, the owner rolling down his window.

Blair glances at her husband, rolling her eyes. "God, déjà vu."

"We need to talk," Chuck calls, his voice gruff. He motions for Arthur to stop the car, then sighs when Blair doesn't stop walking. "If you're going to be a child about this, I'm going to follow you until you get in the car."

"If that's what entertains you," Blair retorts.

"It's impossible," he huffs, "being married to you."

"Because being with _you_ is a breeze, Bass."

"Blair, please," he tries again, his voice softer this time. Her step falters when the words come out broken. "You and I – We're supposed to be partners. I just want to help you. Whatever it is, I just want to be by your side."

Blair stops, and the limo halts. "Chuck…"

"You've been sick every morning, avoiding me like the plague," Chuck says, exasperated. It's then that he pauses, finally stopping to consider his own words. He stares up at her in awe, his voice low when he speaks again. "Blair, you're not – "

And then she's stumbling back and into her building, running from the realization in his eyes. Blair hears her name being called, hears the limo door slamming shut. She stops at Vanya's desk before she catches, hands poised on marble.

"Vanya," she says, her voice tired. "Do not let Mr. Bass upstairs tonight."

:::

Blair's not surprised to find that her mother is gone when she creeps into the penthouse. It's strange, to curl up in her bed after all of these months. She digs her face into her pillow, wrapping herself in a mess of duvets and bed sheets. It's Dorota who eventually finds her there, a breathless, sobbing mess.

"Ms. Blair," she murmurs, placing a careful hand on Blair's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Blair nods, wiping at her face. "I'm fine. I don't know why I've been so _emotional_. I'm just – "

"You are carrying child?"

Blair eyes widen, and her hands reach for her stomach on impulse. "How did you know?"

Dorota smiles. "When you are mother yourself – you just know."

Blair draws in a breath before letting the maid sit beside her. They sit in silence for a moment, Blair's hands clasped in her lap. "Were you afraid?" Blair finally asks, her voice smaller than she usually allows it to be.

"Afraid of what, Ms. Blair?"

"That you weren't going to be a good mother?" Blair pauses. "That you wouldn't know _how _to be one?"

Dorota doesn't answer her question right away. She considers it for a moment, studying Blair's face. "You will be good mother."

Blair glances up. "How do you know?"

"You feed ducks every Saturday, you pick up Ms. Serena when she is broken, you save Mr. Chuck so many times. You are tough on outside, but you have good heart," Dorota says, setting her hand atop of Blair's. "That is why you and Mr. Chuck belong together. You are the same."

"Oh," Blair murmurs, staring down at her fingers. "Do you ever make mistakes?"

"When I first had child, all I made were mistakes," Dorota says, shaking her head as she remembers. "But you learn, and you start again on next day." She pauses, squeezing Blair's hand. "Plus, I have practice with beautiful and bossy little girl in Waldorf household when I first come to country."

Blair grins, squeezing back.

"And I have Vanya," Dorota continues. "My husband is _best_ friend. It is important to have someone there to hold your hand through hard time."

Blair nods, cocking her head to the side. "When did you get so wise, Dorota?"

Dorota lets out a tiny snort. "Maybe it is just now that you start listening, Ms. Blair."

:::

"Hi."

She's standing in front of Chuck, a long trench coat wrapped around her as she shuts the door to his office. After an apology to Serena, she'd hailed a cab to The Empire's offices near midtown. And there she is, holding her breath as Chuck glances up in surprise.

"Should I bolt the doors?" Chuck deadpans. "Or are you going to – " He chokes on his words when Blair shrugs off the coat, the stiff material falling to the floor. She stands before him in simple lingerie, a bra and panties, all black. Her hand trembles before she reaches up to touch her stomach, glancing down.

"Your baby is in here," Blair breathes. "Our baby."

Chuck swears that he might go into cardiac arrest when his heart comes to a full stop before thumping against his chest. He stumbles to his feet, dropping to his knees in front of her. He doesn't care that she's nearly naked in his office, that they haven't spoken in almost a week. His forehead drops to the skin of her stomach, his lips brushing her bellybutton. Chuck closes his eyes for a moment as her fingers run through his hair.

"I was scared," Blair finally says. "If I told you, that would mean…It would mean that it was all real. And the first time – "

He jerks his head up, silencing her. "This isn't going to be like the first time, Blair. I'm going to take care of you. Even if – If I have to _carry _you everywhere you go."

Blair laughs at the absurdity of the thought, but his eyes are serious.

"Ever since my father died, ever since you pulled me off of that roof – I believed that I was better because you _told _me I was," Chuck whispers. His voice is so honest that it throws Blair off balance. "And even then, I think I wanted to prove myself – to be a father – if only for you." He pauses, smiling up at her. "And now, for our baby."

"Chuck – "

"I love you so much that it hurts sometimes," Chuck admits. "That's why you know that I'll take care of you, right? You know that I'll be the best father, the best husband, right?" He looks like a little boy again, so desperate for approval

Blair lets out a breath, fighting another tear. "Of course," she smiles. "You're _Chuck Bass_."

"I thought that maybe, " he starts, getting to his feet. "I thought that you were pregnant before, in the limo." Chuck drags her to his desk, pulling a box from underneath it. He waits as she pulls the at the ribbon, lifting the lid. She gasps when she sees what's inside, shaking her head in disbelief. It's a tiny violet hair bow, made out of fine silk. Accompanying it is a little purple bow tie, an exact replica of the one she's seen around Chuck's collar so often.

"If it's a boy or a girl," he explains, placing a hand on her hip. "Or twins."

"_Twins_," Blair huffs. "Are you trying to kill me, Bass?"

Chuck laughs, pushing the box aside. "It's going to have the best parts of us. They're going to take over the world."

Blair sighs, nuzzling his cheek. "That's exactly what the Upper East Side needs. Another little smarmy Bass leering in limos."

He grins, dropping his lips to her ear. "Or another little queen trying to play dictator in preschool."

Blair waves him away as he tickles her side. He reaches over to pick up his phone, dialing his receptionist with one hand. "Clara, I'm done for the day. Mrs. Bass and I are celebrating."

Blair crosses her arms over her chest, throwing a fake pout. "You'll be the only one enjoying the Dom."

Chuck grins, sliding his hand to her thigh. "I'm sure that we can find a more creative use for it."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hi guys. This is a bit short and simple, but I tried my best. I know that this has been done a bunch of times, but I wanted to incorporate a flashback to how Blair dealt with losing her baby. I thought that the show just sort of dismissed it, so this is my little addition. Enjoy and let me know what you think! xoxo


	9. Love

As if being married to Blair Bass wasn't fearsome enough all on its own, pregnant Blair is an intensified parody of the original – an entity that no man could possibly be equipped to handle. Unless, of course, that man is Chuck Bass. As Blair's cheeks catch a rosy glow, and her belly gets plumper, she just so happens to adopt a multiple personality disorder – to the point where Chuck feels as if he's married to four different versions of his wife entirely.

No resurrected fathers, lecherous uncles, gossiping Brooklynites, pyromaniacal businessmen, or gun shot wounds could have prepared him for this.

:::

The Hungry Blair appears most often, and Chuck almost calls the French embassy to see if the country has had a sudden shortage of macaroons. He sighs when he comes home to a litter of Laduree boxes spread across the hardwood like breadcrumbs. He picks one up, a scatter of empty wrappers falling to the floor. He almost considers making a run for it before an exasperated Dorota comes hurtling towards him.

"Mr. Chuck," Dorota gasps. "Ms. Blair eat entire apartment. She eat _me_ if I let her. Caviar with ham and cheese. Jiffy's peanut butter on fifty-dollar breadstick!"

"Alright, Dorota," Chuck sighs. "Settle down. I'm sure that I can find a way to appease her appetite." He raises an eyebrow suggestively, much to Dorota's dismay. She grabs her coat and flees, murmuring something about a resignation letter and bleeding ears in a strew of English and Polish. Chuck lets out a sharp breath, treading with caution as he pokes his head into their bedroom.

"If you don't have my Godiva delivery, don't bother," Blair calls, her mouth clearly full. He smirks at his plump wife, lying at the center of their bed, drowning in plates, dessert bowls, and chocolate boxes.

"Hello, beautiful," Chuck drawls, ignoring her previous dismissal and pushing the litter aside. He tries to grab the crepe from her fingers, but she slaps him away with a vicious frown. "_Jesus_, Blair. Domestic violence still applies to women."

"Yes," Blair seethes. "And it'll still apply if you lay another hand on my food."

"Now, now," Chuck cooes, placing a light kiss on her bottom lip. She tastes like every dessert in the world all at once, and he savors it, kissing her again. "If you wanted to play rough, all you had to do was ask." He reaches out and rubs at her round belly, still small after only three months.

"I hate you most of the time," Blair grumbles, eyes searching for a survivor in the graveyard of desserts. "You should know that." Chuck smirks, finding it all more amusing that she does.

"And I adore you all of the time, Mrs. Bass," Chuck says, kissing the spot above her belly button. He rests his head on the skin there, and Blair uses the top of his head as a makeshift table as she starts in on a set of dark chocolate truffles. He reaches for the remote, relaxing against her, but she snatches it away from him.

"Hey – "

"Don't get too comfortable," Blair hisses. She pulls his head up, kissing him sweetly before waving him away. "You have errands to run."

"Errands," Chuck repeats, wincing at the sound of the foreign word. "But I'm _Chuck Bass_." Blair narrows her eyes, licking a stray piece of chocolate from the corner of her mouth.

"No. You're Blair's husband," Blair warns, her voice more menacing than any mobster's. "And I'm hungry." Chuck's eyes widen, and he glances around at the mountain of sweets.

"_Are _you serious?"

"Bass," Blair breathes, exasperated. "This is my one chance. I can eat as much as I want when I'm with child. I'm glowing and round, and calories – " Blair sighs, a small smile appearing on her lips. " – are my friends."

"Yeah, well," Chuck gruffs, rolling off the bed. "They aren't mine."

"Less talking," Blair mumbles, tapping her foot to his lower back. "And more doing."

Chuck smirks, casting a glance at her before pulling open the door. "I could say that same for you, Blair. Pregnancy sure does have you going soft."

He ducks just in time to miss the spoon flying at his head.

:::

Chuck's least favorite is Angry Blair, and the rest of the Upper East Side isn't too fond of her either.

Chuck decides that this Blair isn't all that different from the original.

Nate has nicknamed her the Incredible Blair, styled after the greenest member of The Avengers, which was combatted with a verbal smack down on her part – complete with a nickname of his own: _fluffy-haired, empty-headed, ex-pothead, gigolo_. Humphrey and Serena decide to steer clear of the Bass residence for a while, as they can only imagine the hostility she's got in store for them.

Chuck isn't so lucky.

"So help me, Bass," Blair hisses, yanking at his collar. "If you don't get me to a bathroom _right _now…"

"What would you like me to do?" Chuck retorts. "Procure a private bathroom in the middle of the George Washington Bridge?"

"I hate you."

"Fine."

"I mean it," Blair cries, clutching her stomach. "I want a divorce."

"I'll draw up the papers," Chuck sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose. "We'll throw a divorce party like the Sheperds did." As soon as he says it, he curses himself, casting a hesitant glance at her enraged eyes and boiling cheeks. Steam is practically shooting out from her ears.

"You're the worst," Blair cries, curling her tiny fists. "What's wrong with you? You're insufferable and _horrible_ – "

"Careful, Blair," Chuck groans. "Don't be too sweet."

"And when are you going to start looking for other apartments?" Blair prattles on. "Or shall we put the crib behind your bar? Maybe we'll make a mobile from the vodka."

"Or maybe we could use one of your ten closets," Chuck replies, drumming his fingers on the windowsill.

"Oh, says the man who has a bowtie for every hour of the day," Blair snorts. And then her mood shifts again, the bitter smile falling from her lips. She crosses her arms over her belly and stares at her window. "You just hate me."

"Yes, that must be it," Chuck says, incredulous. "That's exactly why I've been tolerating the hours verbal abuse and incessant whining after holding your feet and twisting into ungodly positions at your torturous pregnant yoga class. I did all of that because I despise you so much, Blair."

"Oh, you're just upset because they made you take off your new shoes." Blair hides the smile on her lips, eyes flitting to him for a moment. "And I don't know why you're complaining. You should be used to the positions by now."

"Hm," Chuck murmurs, letting a smile loose. They sit there for a moment, each slumped in their respective seats. It's Blair who breaks the silence first, rolling her head over to look at him.

"Bass?"

"Yes?"

"I don't want a divorce."

"No?"

"No," Blair sighs.

"Good."

"Good."

:::

Blair The Temptress is his second favorite, and she surfaces more and more often when she hits her second trimester. He'd never imagined, or even _fathomed_ the thought of being turned on by a pregnant woman. If only his sixteen year old self could see him now. Apparently, pregnancy hormones work wonders on the female sex drive.

But Blair – she goes into overdrive.

"I want you _now_, Bass," Blair murmurs, rousing the attention of the old couple seated at the table next to them. Chuck offers them a curt smile, adjusting his collar as Blair practically writhes in his lap. She drops her lips to his ear, smiles against his skin. "Take me."

"Mrs. Bass," Chuck murmurs, making a feeble attempt to hold her still. "You'll ruin The Empire's reputation." He kisses her cheek, squeezes her thigh. "This was supposed to be an innocent dinner."

"Chuck Bass…innocent?" Blair smirks. "Now that's a laugh." Chuck casts her a glance in warning, pinching the side of her waist, just under her bump. Blair giggles, curling under his arm as he pops a croquette into her mouth. He's just about to reply when they older couple at their neighboring table leans over.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt," the woman says, smiling. "But you two are just the most gorgeous couple. Aren't they, Steve?" The man nods in assent, raising his fork as he chews on his steak.

"Oh, thank you," Blair chirps. As the woman goes on complimenting them, Blair lights with an idea, sliding her hand to Chuck's leg. He tenses as her fingers trace up his thigh, taking her time as Chuck struggles to focus on the older woman's words. It's when Blair slides her hand up to grasp him through his pants that he loses it, his fingers nearly breaking through the cushion of his seat.

"And how long have you been together?"

"Oh, nearly seven years," Blair grins, stroking Chuck in earnest. "Give or take. Isn't that right, darling?" A garbled groan escapes Chuck's lips, and his nod falters. Luckily, it escapes the notice of the swooning couple, as they focus in on Blair.

"And how far along are you now, dear?"

"Hm," Blair says, picking up her pace. "Almost five months. We're just so _excited_." She places extra emphasis on the word, giving him a light squeeze as she says it. It's then that Chuck snaps, his hand reaching down to still hers under the table. He's in no position to stand up and flee the restaurant, due to his current predicament. So he settles on hailing over the dining manager.

"Philippe, there's been a fire in the kitchen."

The man frowns, glancing over his shoulder. "Um, there isn't…"

"There's been a _fire _in the kitchen," Chuck insists, glancing at his mewling wife. "And the restaurant must be evacuated immediately. Do you understand?"

"Oh…" Philippe murmurs. "_Oh_. Of course, Mr. Bass. Right away."

Chuck makes a mental note to give Philippe a bonus as the burly manager gets the job done in under fifteen minutes. It's not long before Chuck hoists Blair up onto the table in front of them, sliding the dishes out of the way.

"You, Mrs. Bass, are as insatiable as ever."

Blair moans as Chuck leans over to kiss her neck. "But you love me."

He smiles, pulling her closer. "Always."

:::

It's Chuck's Blair that is his favorite. At the end of the day, she's always there - the Blair who stood by him at Bart's funeral, who professed her love too often than he deserved – the Blair who saved his life once, twice, and then again. It was the mother of his child, the center of his universe. He is the word, and she is his definition – and everything makes sense now.

He's in shock when she pulls him from her doctor's office, apologizing to Dr. Harris as they head off. _I apologize for my husband, Doctor. He must be in shock. _When they slide into the limo, Chuck finally lets out the breath he's been holding since he was given the glossy sonogram in his hands.

"Your son," Blair murmurs, tracing the line of his jaw.

"My son," Chuck repeats. "A boy. It's – I don't – "

"He's going to be just like you," Blair says, taking his hand and placing it on her stomach. His eyes are wide, glistening with tears as her fingers trace over his knuckles, and she plants a kiss on the nape of his neck. "Brave and strong and so handsome."

"And you – " Chuck adds, clearing his throat. "Witty and smart and _perfect_." He lifts her hand, kissing her palm. "This is it, isn't it? Every tear, every obstacle, every push and pull and scream and fight – before we could even fathom the idea of our _future_ together – it was always supposed to be you and I, wasn't it?"

Blair smiles. "I've always been yours, Bass."

Chuck grins. "And I yours, Mrs. Bass." He taps her belly. "A king and queen, and now...our little prince."

"Like his father once was," Blair whispers. "A _stubborn _little prince – a mischievous one." She pauses, considering her words. "Prince Henry."

"Prince Henry," Chuck repeats, recalling the part of him that had wanted to be better for Blair – the part of him that eventually became _all _of him. He skims the pad of his thumb over her lips. "Are you sure?"

Blair's nod is instantaneous, her smile lighting up her whole face. "I've been sure for seven years."

_Fin._

* * *

**Author's Note: **Another ending! _Begin Again _has run its course for me, and I was really happy with ending it here. I want to thank every single one of you for reviewing and reading and swooning over Chair right alongside me. You guys are all amazing, and I hope you enjoyed it. I really hope to focus on my new fic, _Wires_, in the future. I also hope to edit and republish some of the stories that I discontinued a while back when I had too many projects on my hands. I'd love to hear your thoughts, your rants or raves, your favorite chapters - if you have the time! And if you want to check out the writing I've done post-Henry's birth, check out _Son of a Bass_. I love you all. And thank you, as always, for reading.


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